So I'm back! Sorry it took so long. Thanks to my beat SiriusBlack123.
Chapter 3: Three Days and Mistaken Identities
Alex and Iris made pizza from scratch – having quite the time trying to flip them like chefs did and dancing around the kitchen.
By the time the pizza was in the oven they were covered in flour and sauce.
They took one look at each other and burst into laughter.
"So, my vote is that we eat our amazing pizza, save some for the guys and then go to the bar."
The bar was the local gathering place to hang out, and drink or dance if you desired.
Johnny – the owner – was an older man in his sixties who spent the mornings playing crossing guard at the elementary school and the afternoon helping out at whatever odd jobs needed to be done. At night he would open his small bar and the town would go in to sit and talk.
There was dancing to the old songs on the creaky jukebox, alcohol and lots of small tables to sit and talk to people.
"We can call O and E after dinner and see where they are and if they can meet us."
"Welcome to Great Falls Montana and thank you for flying American Airlines."
House very nearly jumped out of his seat with a gruff "Cripple, coming through."
The flight had been delayed, and he had been unable to contact Dr. Woods to let him know. He hoped that he was still there.
As soon as he stepped off the plane he nervously began to scan the area. He had no idea what the man looked like.
The picture that he had been sent had been of four people. Two men, a woman and Cameron.
Cameron had been grinning brilliantly into the camera, eyes bright and hopeful.
Even after everything she still hadn't lost her hope.
Maybe she had enough for both of them. He had lost his for the first time years ago when he woke up to find half of his thigh muscle missing.
Hope had returned a little when she drifted into his life.
So naive, so full of life, so trusting. A little hope had drifted back into his life only to be torn away with a simple crash and a phone call.
"Dr. House?"
He spun around to look at an older man.
Richard Woods was in his early fifties and his hair was a speckled pepper color. Brown eyes stared at House, calm and serious.
"You must be Dr. Woods."
"Call me Richard please."
"Call me House."
"Did you bring a bag or just that?"
Richard seemed to understand that House wasn't there for pleasantries. He was there to find Cameron.
And that was all.
If it was Cameron.
But it had to be Cameron.
Because House wasn't sure if he could do it all again.
No one knew but two weeks after the funeral he had gotten a phone call from an old friend from his army brat days.
Yes, he did have friends beside Wilson.
"That girl that used to work for you?"
"Cameron?"
He had immediately perked up.
"My boss wanted me to call you." Patrick Obstoys' voice was hesitant.
He lived in California and worked as the head of the ER there.
His boss was the hospital head.
"Yeah?"
"We had a woman come in two days ago. She had a picture of your department that Cuddy had made you take when you did that article."
After Sebastian Charles left the newspapers had discovered them. The four diagnostics that had saved him.
They had been forced to do an interview.
House had gotten out of two weeks of clinic for it, but still. They had to give an interview.
The reporters had insisted on a picture as well. In the conference room.
House had stood between Foreman and Chase. Cameron had stood in front of him, the photographer insisting that it looked better that way.
He could remember the smell of her shampoo. He had always assumed that it would be some floral sent. Lavender. Or maybe not floral, but vanilla.
Instead it had been cucumbers and green tea.
He had spotted the green tea smell immediately but it had taken him a little while to identify the cucumber.
For some reason the smell had fit her.
It was sweet, but not overly so. Not to where it was fake.
The picture had been with the article and for weeks after that they had gotten e-mails, phone calls and letters. Requests for help, letters of admiration. All that stuff.
"What about it?"
"She was in a car accident and her face is to badly burned and scarred right now to know who she is. She hasn't been able to speak yet, but they want you to come out and look and see if it's Dr. Cameron."
So he had with a small ray of hope.
The hope had been crushed the moment he looked into deep brown eyes.
She was sick and was hoping that Dr. House and his team could cure her.
They did end up curing her, but all House would say was that an old friend called and asked a favor.
No one knew how he got the case.
He never told them about Cameron. It would hurt them more then it would hurt him.
And he was hurt.
Deeply.
Wilson sat and stared at the short note taped to his computer in Houses' familiar chicken scratch. He had become used to deciphering it on the rare days that House wrote something himself, but he was sure that he was reading it wrong.
Jimmy-
Went to Montana. Need time. I'll call you. Everything is fine.
Greg
The fact that he had signed his first name meant it was personal.
And not just any kind of personal. Very personal. Something to do with Stacy no doubt. Or his parents. Or maybe even Cameron.
Wilson rubbed his head. He could count on his hands, Cuddy's hands, Foreman's hands and Chase's hands the times that he had gotten Greg out of trouble. And he would still have times left over.
Be it something as small as letting him hide from Clinic Duty in his office to bailing him out of jail or picking him up when he was drunk Wilson had always been there.
Even after his leg Wilson had been able drag him out of his slump. When Stacy left there had been many sleepless drunken nights that he had spent with Greg on the couch – he had been to ashamed of his leg to go to bars.
And then Cameron had been gone.
There had been countless nights spent with Greg in bars. There were days when he was completely wasted to the point of passing out. There was the first week after her disappearance that a messy haired and bleary eyed House had worked the ER for every shift that he could get.
If he couldn't save Allison Cameron he could at least save someone else.
And then the funeral.
Who didn't love Allison Cameron?
At the hospital she had been the one who could cajole House into a better mood, the one who could get the tech's to speed up any tests she needed or let her slip in an MRI even though she wasn't on the list.
The nurses loved that she was polite to them and that she did clinic without complaint.
You couldn't not like the tiny, sweet, immunologist.
And growing up, she had been her town's Golden Girl.
She had been raised by her grandparents, her parents deciding that they weren't ready for children, but that they still loved each other.
They had left her and her brother Cole as they traveled the world together.
It had hurt that they weren't a part of their parents' life, and Cole had taken it harder then Allison.
The two were practically inseparable growing up, but they had drifted after going to college and getting jobs on the other sides of the country.
Cole was a writer who worked under the name 'Ace Clark'.
Ace for his childhood nickname and Clark because it was his grandmothers' maiden name.
Cameron had been the more out going of the two, but when Wilson had met the quiet twin of Cameron he could see how the two were close.
Cole had Allison's eyes and jet black hair. He was about House's height and Wilson had been shocked to find out that he only had one real arm.
The other was a prosthetic.
"Motorcycle accident. Ten years ago." Was all he would say on the subject.
Where Allison was bright and happy Cole was dark and serious. They completed each other in a way that only siblings could.
But Wilson could understand why Cameron was golden girl.
Her sunny disposition no matter what had happened to her and the way she was always willing to help someone.
They were a lot alike in that manner - Cameron and Wilson.
Always trying to help.
But the one thing that he couldn't help House with was the death of Cameron.
This was something he couldn't fix.
Wilson, the doctor that everyone loved, the one who could talk House out of problems, have dying cancer patients thank him – it didn't matter.
He couldn't cure death.
He couldn't fix the thing that had hit his friend the hardest.
Three days Wilson decided.
House would get three days before Wilson went after him.
"He just left Wilson. There's nothing else I can tell you. He told me that he needed some time off, a few days. It was a message though so I couldn't ask him what the hell he was doing his cell phone is off. I've been having my secretary call every half hour."
"I'm giving him three days before I start searching."
Cuddy nodded. "Three days. And I'm helping you find him."
Wilson spun to stare at her but the protest died on his lips.
"He's my friend too."
Let me know what you think.
Jess
